Odgen's Finest Effects
by aaliona
Summary: After an interesting New Years Eve party, Hermione and Harry wake up in a compromising position that doesn't have Harry as nearly concerned as Hermione.


**Written for the January Twin Exchange Challenge, here's a Harry-Hermione one-shot for you. I hope you enjoy it!**

"Fire," Hermione muttered.

"What?"

"My head is on fire." She then realized the voice coming from next to her was male and that she was currently single. Forcing her eyes open, Hermione looked to her left.

"Harry?"

He flinched, eyebrows furling together. "Do you have to be so loud?" he asked. "You sound like you think Dementors are coming."

Ignoring him, Hermione said in an equally high pitch voice, "What happened last night?"

"What happens every New Year's Eve?"

She groaned, rolling over to face away from him. "I don't usually drink Odgen's. Ever."

Harry chuckled dryly. "Oh, I do only occasionally, but it gets me into trouble every year. It landed me with Luna right after she and Ron started dating, Ginny right after we broke up, and even Astoria Greengrass right after she and Malfoy announced their engagement."

"I would think you'd have learned not to drink it," Hermione said, furrowing her brows in disapproval. "I never touch the touch the stuff, if I can help it. White Rat Whiskey is as strong as I ever go."

"Well, wasn't last night worth it?"

"I'm sure it _could_ have been if I had a clue what happened," Hermione snapped. "It's all one big cloud of gunpowder from the cannons going off in my head."

"At least you're clear-headed enough to be poetic." Harry rolled over onto his stomach, propping himself up to grin at her.

With a tug at the blanket to make sure she was properly covered up, Hermione snapped, "It's not about poetry; it's the truth. Now seriously, what happened last night? How did we end up _in bed together_?"

His green eyes clouded as he frowned. "You don't remember even a bit of it? That's terrible! And here I thought we had such a memorable time."

"Not funny, Harry. I'm serious."

Harry sighed, turning back onto his stomach. "We got drunk and had mind-blowing sex."

"That's it?"

"What do you mean that's it?" Harry sat up faster than Hermione thought possible with a hangover. "By mind-blowing, I mean the best shag I have ever had in my life, drunk or not. I don't care if you don't remember it, but do not belittle it into nothing."

Chewing on her lip, Hermione deliberated how best to respond. "I'm sorry," she started, carefully delivering each word. "If it meant a lot to you, I'm not sure what I can do, Harry. You're like my brother, always have been. Repeating this sober would be the most surreal thing I could possibly do. We'll just have to keep this our little secret."

"That would be a great idea," he replied sullenly, "if you hadn't shouted to everyone when we left the Hogs Head last night that you were 'off to have the best shag of your life.'"

Turning as red as an amusement park balloon, she sputtered, "I didn't really say that, did I?"

When Harry nodded, she buried her head in her hands, not caring if the blanket fell from her chest. "I've really mucked things up this time!" She looked up at him. "I'm sorry, Harry."

He scowled, scooting closer. Hermione shrank back, but when she tried to lift the sheet back up to cover herself, Harry took hold of it. "Don't," he said. "This doesn't have to be as awful as you're making it. So our friends know we had sex. So what? We could pretend it was a drunken mistake, or we can see where it leads."

When she opened her mouth to protest, Harry cut her off. "Trust me. After last night, I definitely want more, and I should hate to think that you would shut me down now, only to remember it a few months from now and come crawling back for more of the greatest thing you've ever experienced."

Her mouth fell open, hanging on a hinge as she attempted to piece her thoughts back together. "You don't know it would be good sober," she lamely said.

"Only one way to find out," Harry replied, a slyness in his eyes that made her wary. "What's the worst that will happen? That it won't work?"

"What if that happens?" Hermione felt feisty suddenly, determined not to let Harry talk her into anything.

He rolled his eyes. "Well, I suppose the worst case possible would be to go to my house, shag in the parlor, and have you so dissatisfied that you shoot me with a stunning spell or something."

"Shoot you?" she repeated, concerned by his imagination.

Harry nodded. "Can you imagine how terrible that would be, you shooting me with my wand?" The gleam of mischief returned to his eyes. "Of course, you could always shoot another wand."

She pushed him away in disgust. "Fine," she snapped, "but we're not going in any parlor. We're going to my house." The decision feeling like her own, Hermione felt much more confident, even if she knew Harry had talked her into it with his tomfoolery.

"But this isn't going to be anything permanent," she declared. "This isn't going to be any sort of repetition in this. You and I are just going to try it. There won't be any of that 'until death do us part' stuff."

"If you say so," Harry replied.

As Hermione stood up, allowing the blanket to fall back on the bed, Harry whistled. She glared at him, but all he had prepared in defense was, "I'll go pick out the rings."


End file.
